Anything for a Friend
by CerealKillerZero
Summary: Tag for 3.16 Contenders.  A different take on what could have happened the day Earl Daly died.


AN: More archive fic. Written for a challenge on lj.

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Ben Ellis was a thug, more brawn than brains, and he knew it.

He did had a knack though, for thinking on his feet in a jam; and after hearing a gunshot as he stepped out of that nasty, burger joint bathroom, he knew those skills would be needed.

Earl was on the ground, blood gushing out of a medium sized hole just inches below his heart. It didn't take a genius to realize that he wasn't long for this world. David was crouched over him; anger, shock, and fear flashing across his face in equal measures. Earl's girl was looking on in horror, while a myriad of bystanders fled in panic, adding to the chaos of the scene.

Ben could hear sirens already in the distance, though it offered no comfort. For this neighborhood, the response time for the police had always been better than the paramedics. He needed to act quickly.

He knelt down next to David, even as Earl's last breath left him and urgently questioned, "What happened?"

David's eyes were riveted on Earl's still form. "I-I just... I didn't mean... He wasn't supposed to get hurt!"

"David! C'mon man!" Ben exclaimed, shaking the other teen out of his stupor, heavily conscious of the sirens closing distance.

"I was just fooling around! I-I didn't know he had a gun! You gotta believe me!" David turned to him, pleading, a near hysterical expression crossing his face.

Ben felt a flash of irritation. Of course David had just been fooling around. Boy liked to play with fire. Ben might be the one with the reputation for being a hothead, but David had always been just as likely to get their little trio into trouble, and usually without meaning to.

It was easy to see why. Guys from their neighborhood typically fell to one of three fates. Gangs, jail, or drive-byes. David was different, though. He always had been.

Like in school, while everyone else was scraping by trying to avoid flunking math or getting suspended once to often to avoid being held back, David soared above the rest. It came to no surprise to Ben when the same guidance counselor, who had gently advised him that getting his GED might just be the most practical plan of action, had loaded David down with a stack of college applications featuring pictures of students in sweater vests studying under trees.

Earl had teased him unmercifully about leaving the Bronx and turning into some yuppy white-boy wannabe. David took the good-natured ribbing in stride, joking back about returning to the neighborhood in a few years with money and maybe hooking Earl and Ben up with cash as well, so long as they played nice.

However, while David's above-it-all ambition was the subject of teasing among friends, throughout the rest of the neighborhood, it was something met with downright hostility and hate.

Ben wasn't quite sure of the number of times he had pulled wannabe gang bangers off his friend in fights as they screamed, "You think you're better than us? HUH? Do you?"

Fact was though, Ben did believe David was better. Better than him. Better than this life. And it was all about to be ruined. Because David just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Because Earl had to come see his girl. Because too many thugs just didn't want to see his friend succeed.

Well, Ben wasn't about to let that happen.

He stood quickly, yanking David to his feet as he did so. "David. I want you to get out of here."

Uncomprehending eyes stared back at him.

Ben gave him a little push towards the back exit. "You went home after the movie. You were never here."

"But, everyone saw-" David protested.

Ben cut him off. "Two black guys getting into a fight with some gang banger with a gun. Me and Earl. You were never here. You understand me?"

Slowly, a look of comprehension flashed across David's face. "Ben, I-"

"David. Just. Go!" Ben insisted loudly over the sound of sirens, pushing David again.

David stumbled a little, edging towards the back exit. Ben nodded encouragingly. David turned, and with one last backward glance, fled the scene. As soon as the backdoor shut, Ben turned towards the front entrance in time to see two uniformed cops enter with guns drawn.

Ben raised his arms, threading his fingers behind his head and sank to his knees, assuming a position familiar to most young men in his neighborhood. He took a slow deep breath, then confessed. "I started the fight."

One officer approached to cuff him, while the other held back, gun aimed at Ben in case he tried to run.

As the cuffs closed around his wrists, the sound echoing with finality, he couldn't help thinking that, yeah, maybe this wasn't the smartest plan he had ever made. Then again, that was to be expected.

He was a thug, with more brawn than brains, and he knew it.

But he'd do anything for his friends.


End file.
